


that's why we're making headlines

by sleeplessmiles



Series: anything for the crown [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:52:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/pseuds/sleeplessmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There really isn’t much in this line of work that Skye loves more than a heist done out of spite. </p><p>--</p><p>  <em>Or, the all-ladies heist team AU that was probably inevitable.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	that's why we're making headlines

**Author's Note:**

> This is borderline crack, probably. Also, Sam is entirely to blame for me jumping from WHERE ARE MY ALL-LADIES HEIST FILMS to AoS AU, so this one's for her.
> 
> Hope you all get a bit of enjoyment out of it!!
> 
> NOTE: there's quite a bit of swearing in here, and also their mark is drugged without his knowledge, so be mindful if any of that's not really your cup of tea.

There really isn’t much in this line of work that Skye loves more than a heist done out of spite. 

Like, okay. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. There are tonnes of things she loves about this line of work, including (but sure as hell not limited to): stealing crap from rich people, stealing crap from _bad_  people, getting to show off her tech skills, getting to dress up every so often, and –

Well, yeah, what she’s doing right now, actually. She’s sitting on the roof of the most expensive hotel in the city, taking in the view all by herself while some hoity-toity shindig gets underway in the ballroom many floors below her.

So that’s a pretty great perk to the job too. She’s a big fan.

But there’s something about doing a job just for the sake of messing with your competition that’s keeping a permanent smile on her face.

As soon as Fitz had absentmindedly mentioned these Hydra corporation blueprints he’d been lusting over, Skye had known she just  _had_  to steal them. She’d just known. And pretty much all of the others had been on board with the idea right away, which was completely predictable; it was May who’d been the wildcard. But as it turns out, they’d all greatly underestimated May’s propensity for screwing with people – astounding in hindsight, given how often she messes with all of them – because the woman had agreed with almost violent enthusiasm.

They were going to steal the schematics before Fitz’s team even had the chance to get their shit together. Just to fuck with them.

So yeah, the whole thing is totally spiteful.

Does that make her a bad person? Are they bad people?

Maybe.

Whatever. Because Fitz is  _so_  going to cry when he finds out. Probably Hunter, too.

And it’s such an easy job! That’s what’s going to kill them in the end, more than anything else. It’s so ridiculously straightforward. They’ve got Kara cracking the safe, May setting up the tech for their escape, and Jem working over a mark to get the keycard they need for a clean, untraceable getaway. Bobbi’s waiting out front on the Harley, ready to split the car chase if things go to shit, but there’s pretty much zero chance of that happening.

The whole thing’s super snoresville, and Skye has no doubt they wouldn’t even be bothering with the heist at all if it weren’t for the express purpose of taking the thing the guys want.

Which is why she fucking loves it.

Eventually, Skye figures she’s probably allowed enough time for Kara to get her disguise – and, yeah, okay, she’s let Jemma suffer for long enough by this stage, probably – so she stands up and brushes off the seat of her jeans, stretching her arms above her head until her spine releases three satisfying pops. Shrugging her leather jacket back on, she hoists her backpack up and takes one final look across the rooftops.

God _damn_ , that’s a view. Those rich bastards don’t know what they’re missing in there.

Sucks to be them.

With a bit of a bounce in her step, she wrenches open the roof door and ducks back into the stairwell. It’s reserved for service staff, but it’s the furthest from anything important in the hotel so it’s mostly disused. Plus, as Skye was delighted to discover, most of the staff exclusively use the elevators anyway.

Which means that in basically no time at all, she’s at her destination – an old storage room that seems to have been mostly forgotten, judging by how rarely security does a pass down the corridor. Shutting the door behind her with a soft  _click_ , Skye surveys her surroundings.

Cramped, overrun with ruined linen, smells like damp things and death.

Perfect.

She’s pulling her laptop out even before she’s found a place to sit down.

‘Phase one is a go, people. I repeat: phase one is a go.’

‘Copy that.’

‘Copy!’

‘Welcome to the party, Skye.’

Nothing from Jemma.

‘Jemma, do you copy?’

There’s the sound of fabric rustling, and then Jemma’s voice comes in.

‘About bloody time,’ she hisses under her breath.

Skye smirks. ‘Good to hear that beautiful voice, Jemma. Enjoying ourselves, are we?’

Jemma huffs in reply, which only makes Skye’s grin broaden.

The thing is, Jemma doesn’t actually mind working the floor too much, especially when there’s a seduction involved. She considers it something of a challenge, as far as Skye can tell. All of the formulas are hers too, so she enjoys getting hands on with her work. And on top of all that, nobody’s more confident in Jemma Simmons’ looks than Jemma Simmons. So, generally speaking, she tends to have this shit down and does the whole thing without complaint. Relishes in it, even.

Except this is Bakshi, a mark they’ve targeted before. Several times, actually, the poor old crank.

So they know what he’s like. And none of them had really wanted to go anywhere near him. And so they maybe possibly played a game of poker to work out who would have to seduce him, and Skye maybe possibly got Jemma a little drunk and hustled her for all she had.

But hey, that’s what happens when you make bets with a professional hustler. You lose.

(And Skye is nothing if not a professional.)

Basically, Jemma’s been moping about this job for three days straight. It’s been endlessly hilarious.

‘Okay,’ Skye announces, entering in another line of code. ‘I’m online. Just give me a few.’

There’s a lot of background noise coming in over comms, and Skye’s gotten pretty good at blocking it out while she works but she still likes to kind of half-listen in, too. It’s just so weird to her, the sounds that get picked up. The snippets of conversation that filter through are so foreign, coming from a world of wealth and commerce and all that classy shit that she’s never been privy to.

And, like, she doesn’t really want to be privy to it either. It’s just kind of intriguing to get a glimpse of it every so often, is all.

Right before they rob them penniless.

She grins.

Leaning back onto two legs of the chair, Skye reaches across for the front pocket of her backpack, where she keeps snacks for just such an occasion. Tragically, her grasping hand finds nothing.

 _Fuck_. Fitz must have raided her stash again.

‘Well fuck you too, Fitz.’

‘Wait, did you say Fitz?’ Kara asks, her voice low. ‘God, don’t tell me the guys are here too.’

Skye sighs. ‘Nope, we’re clear. But the asshole stole my food.’

‘You’re going to steal the million-dollar schematics he wanted though,’ Bobbi points out helpfully. ‘So you still win.’

A pleased  _hmph_ sounds across the comms – Jemma, of course. She and Skye’s roomie Fitz – Skye’s roomie who just so happens to be the strategist for the only other heist team in the US that’s actually worth shit – have got this weird rivalry thing going. And Skye’s going to continue calling it a weird rivalry, even though they all know the two of them have hooked up at least once.

Like, she’s not even sure how that whole thing works, really, only that they kind of seem to hate each other most of the time. Jemma’s completely dismissive of him whenever he comes up in conversation, regarding him with nothing but disdain. Whenever Jemma’s been brought up in Skye’s apartment, Fitz just mutters crap about ‘stupid Jemma with her stupid hair and her stupid’  _blah blah blah_  general Fitz grumpiness.

But then they get all up in each other’s space whenever they’re in the same room, violently arguing right in each other’s faces, and it’s kind of –

Look, ‘weird rivalry’ means that Skye doesn’t have to examine it too closely, so she’s going to stick with that one thanks.

‘You know Hunter’s going to lose his fucking mind,’ she says, changing the topic to Fitz’s deadbeat teammate and Bobbi’s ex.

She can actually  _hear_  the grin in Bobbi’s voice. ‘My life’s mission.’

‘Skye,’ comes May’s voice through the earpiece then, all business. ‘Progress?’

Yikes. She sits up straighter. ‘Uh, just looping the feeds now.’

‘We good?’ Kara asks about five seconds later, sounding impatient, and Skye can see from the security footage that she’s approaching the restricted hallway. She doesn’t look much like Kara, with the clunky security guard uniform she wears and the morph mask showing someone else’s face, but the gait is unmistakable.

‘You,’ she draws out, fingers racing across the keyboard. With a few final clicks, the feeds are looped on empty hallways, with only Skye able to access the actual real time footage. She sits back, satisfied. ‘Are more than good. I  _would_  say fantastic, but I don’t want to inflate your ego. You still need to fit in the van on the way home.’

‘You’re a riot, Skye.’

Something clanks, and Skye recognises the sound as someone removing a grate to get at the ventilation shafts.

May.

‘Copy that,’ May says. Something beeps; the older woman clicking a button on her watch. ‘Clock’s on.’

There’s a hushed conversation at Kara’s end then, and Skye’s only half listening in but it sounds like some other security guard’s making suggestive comments. The security vision doesn’t really pick up on Kara’s face, but Skye can see in the lines of her body how she’s holding herself back from physically attacking him.

Atta girl.

Once she’s finally ditched the guard and locked into the room, Kara groans in frustration, throwing her stuff down in front of the massive safe.

‘ _Fuck_  this job, okay? Fuck it.’

May sighs. ‘Tone it down, Palamas.’

‘Is that not what a security guard would say?’ she tries. ‘I’m in character.’

‘Kara.’ May’s voice is a warning this time.

‘Why is it always the security guards who are so creepy? I mean,  _God._  Every time.’

Thankfully, Bobbi jumps in. ‘You can work the floor next time, Kar. Promise.’

Kara laughs, the sound all bitterness.

‘So I get the rich, smarmy sleazebags instead of security guard sleazebags? No thanks. I’m getting  _your_ job next time.’ She sighs wistfully, sitting down on the ground in front of the safe. ‘I miss the Harley.’

‘Glitzy dresses though,’ Bobbi argues.

Kara snorts. ‘Yeah, because Jem’s enjoying that so much right now.’

_Oh, shit._

At the reminder, Skye taps a few keys and brings up the feed from the ballroom. And then, she starts grinning almost instantly.

Because Jemma’s sitting next to her companion for the night, and she’s not even trying. Seriously. Skye has never, ever, seen her try less than she’s trying right now. There’s a sulky pout on her face and her posture absolutely screams boredom – she’s slumped back in her seat and propping up her chin with one hand, and she’s not bothering to even look at their mark. As Skye watches, she literally rolls her eyes in disgust at something he’s saying. But since his eyes are permanently fixed somewhere below Jemma’s face, he doesn’t even notice.

Incredible.

The hypnotic power of Jemma’s boobs will never cease to amaze Skye.

‘How’s Jemma doing, anyway?’ Bobbi asks.

‘Great!’ Skye enthuses. ‘Her boobs continue to be an inspiration the world over.’

On the monitor, Jemma slides her gaze over to where she knows the camera is, leveling it with a dirty look. Skye’s grin only grows wider.

‘Oh come  _on_ , you literally said the same thing last week, word-for-word.’

Despite the truth of the statement, Jemma’s eyes flash dangerously.

(It’s possible she’s still a little sore about the whole bet thing.)

‘Sure you don’t want in on that, Kara?’ Bobbi asks.

‘Ugh, no way. I already had to deal with Bakshi’s meaty paws that time in Vienna. Sorry, English,’ she adds, voice genuinely sympathetic.

Huffing, Jemma slumps down in her chair even more.

Bakshi’s eyes remain fixated on her chest.

(Okay. So Skye maybe feels a _little_  bad for making her do this.)

Pushing it out of her mind, she runs her gaze quickly over the feeds again, making sure everything is going according to plan. It is, of course; the corridors are still all clear, the security feeds still looped. Kara seems to be making progress with cracking the safe. Jemma’s got Bakshi, hook, line, and sinker. Skye checks her watch.

They’re actually ahead of schedule.

_Huh. Go team._

‘May,’ she asks. ‘How’s it looking?’

May grunts from exertion. ‘Cramped.’

Right. Thanks for that, May. Always so forthcoming.

Blowing the feed from the ballroom up to full screen, Skye sees Jemma reach out to touch Bakshi’s bicep briefly, her hand drifting over the top of his champagne flute.

‘She’s dosed him.’

May makes a faint sound of approval. ‘Great work, Simmons.’

On the monitor, Jemma perks up a little.

Rolling her eyes at the predictable response, Skye pushes away from her laptop and starts peeling off her clothes, replacing them with a hotel employee’s uniform.

‘Signal scrambler in place,’ May states, her words punctuated by a sharp clunk.

‘Nice.’

‘Anyone else feel like this is going too well?’ Bobbi asks suddenly, sounding a bit tense.

Skye pauses in buttoning her shirt and blinks. ‘Uh, well I  _didn’t_ , until someone had to go and fucking jinx it?’

‘Someone who isn’t even in the building, too,’ Kara grumbles.

‘Yeah yeah, alright. Just… nothing has messed up yet. I don’t like it.’

‘The universe isn’t  _all_ chaos, Bob,’ Kara replies idly, still spinning the combination wheel on the safe.

‘… That was real deep, Kar. Thanks for imparting that wisdom upon us.’

‘You know me. Just keeping it real.’

Everyone lapses into a comfortable silence then, each of them working on their respective tasks. Skye allows her gaze to roam across the various security feeds, enjoying the simple pleasure of watching a plan come together. She sits back down and stretches her arms above her head, leaning back in her little space.

‘Okay,’ Kara says eventually. ‘Care to make things a little more interesting then?’

‘No,’ Skye answers, a kneejerk reflex.

_‘Kara.’_

There’s a strangled cry of protest that sounds distinctly like Jemma.

‘What?’ Kara asks, confused.

Bobbi jumps in helpfully. ‘They’re talking about Boston, babe.’

‘Are you kidding me?! That was literally one time! I can’t believe you guys.’

Someone clears her throat across the line, righteous outrage and disbelief broadcast clearly in the small sound.

(So. Definitely Jemma.)

‘Oh come on, English,’ Kara tries, still spinning the combination wheel on the safe. ‘We got your Louboutin pumps back eventually. No harm done.’

‘Hey, Kar? Think she’s probably talking about the hair situation.’

‘It grew back!’

Noticing movement on Jemma’s feed, Skye sits forward, instantly on alert.

‘Okay, everyone shut up, Jemma’s going for it.’

Jemma leans over to Bakshi, expertly feigning just enough interest to entice Bakshi back to his room before the drugs kick in. She places a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder and her mouth next to his ear, and –

_Jesus._

Skye almost yanks out her earpiece to preserve her innocence because holy  _shit_ , the things that Jemma’s whispering to him are downright  _filthy_. There’s a low whistle – from Bobbi, Skye thinks. The footage shows that Kara’s still working at the safe, but she’s shaking her head with a smirk.

The amused snort sounds suspiciously like one Melinda May.

Seeing as Bakshi is, you know, an actual live human being who heard those words come out of Jemma Simmons’ mouth, he’s immediately out of his chair and pulling Jemma up with him. Jemma, for her part, simply gives him a demure smile before grabbing his hand and leading him to the elevators. When she draws level with the camera, she makes a disgusted face, scrunching up her nose and poking her tongue out.

Inspirational.

‘Are you in position?’ May asks.

Skye blinks, frowns. Is who in position…?

Oh!

Oh, fuck. That’s her.

Tapping quickly at a few keys, Skye shoves the rest of her shit into her backpack with her free hand.

‘Aaand we are now mobile. Headed your way, Jem.’

She throws her backpack onto the bottom tier of the food cart she’d swiped earlier, making sure it’s covered by the cart’s cloth. Then, she starts to make her way down the corridor to the room they’d pre-booked. And look, she’s really trying to look inconspicuous and like she works here – she really, really is – but this uniform is uncomfortable as fuck and she’s getting a newfound appreciation for people in the service industry.

Anyway, she deposits the cart with all her equipment into the room without seeing a single other person, which is pretty great – they’d planned for this, of course, booking on the least populated floor, but it’s always good when things work out. Plus they’re going to have to get Bakshi in there undetected, so. The fewer people around the better, right? If she has to resort to using one of Fitz’s stun guns that Jemma helpfully modified  _(‘improved, actually’)_ , she’ll feel kind of miffed. The whole point of this is proving that they're better, so it'd suck to have to rely on Fitz's help, essentially.

Although, that might be a nice touch for when Fitz and the guys are reading about this in tomorrow’s papers.

Huh.

Locking the room behind her and seeing that the coast is (still) clear, Skye decides to fuck with Jemma a little bit.

(She won the damn bet, okay? This is pretty much her God-given right at this point.)

‘Jemma Simmons, I think you and I are going to need to have  _words_. Namely: where the fuck did you learn to talk like that? You sure as hell didn’t learn it from Fitz.’

A strangled sound comes down the line; Bakshi’s apparently still conscious, preventing Jemma from replying properly. Skye bites back a smile.

‘ _Relax,_  I know you fucked him. No judgement here. Bit of hate sex, I get it.’

Distressed humming on Jemma’s end.

‘Like, sure, I don’t  _get it_ get it – you’re kind of his direct opponent, ya know? But then again, this is you, and you have that whole… thing. With winning, but also with smart people? So I kind of get it.’

Bakshi sounds like he’s slurring now. Skye can practically feel Jemma’s silent fury coursing over the comms.

‘Anyway,’ she continues casually, coming to a halt in front of the elevator, ‘you should totally try that line on him some time. Bet he’d love it.’

The elevator pings and the doors slide open, revealing an immaculate-looking Jemma propping up an unconscious Bakshi, her eyes screaming bloody murder. Skye’s cheeks are almost in physical pain from the shit-eating grin she’s wearing.

‘Jemma Simmons,’ she announces. ‘You are on fire tonight, you know that? Even gave  _me_  tingles.’

‘I am going to  _kill you_ ,’ Jemma hisses, looping one of Bakshi’s limp arms across her shoulders. Skye just laughs, moving forward to do the same on his other side.

‘Do you think I’m joking? I will murder you –  _in your sleep_  – and no one will even blame me for it. And do you know why no one will blame me, Skye? It’s because they heard the  _entire bloody conversation_  so they know there’s just cause!’

‘See, I know you  _think_  you’re saying words, but all I’m hearing is butthurt from someone who lost a bet.’

‘Who lost a -? A bet that  _you_  rigged!’

‘Not my fault you missed it.’

‘Because you got me drunk!’

‘You got _yourself_  drunk.’

‘Does this conversation have to take place when the rest of us can hear it?’ May interjects, her tone flat.

Jemma winces.

‘Sorry, May.’

‘Just get the card.’

‘Copy that,’ Jemma says, lips thinning into a determined line.

Once they get into the hotel room, they unceremoniously dump Bakshi onto the bed and Jemma gets to work, smearing her lipstick up and down his neck before reaching for his wallet and rifling through it. Skye just sits back, enjoying watching her in action live rather than through a screen.

‘I know you were mostly just bait, but you look super hot. Has anyone told you that yet?’

‘Yes,’ Jemma replies, without even glancing up. ‘You. Several times.’

‘Huh. How about that.’

‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she shoots back, voice teasing. She actually looks up this time, a smirk dancing at her lips. ‘You should really consider this line of work full time, you know. The uniform suits you.’

‘Oh, yeah? You think so?’ Skye asks mock-seriously, striking a pose in the drab hotel get-up. Her antics draw a giggle out of Jemma. Skye shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Kind of digging the perks of my current job.’

‘Can you two stop flirting and just get on with it?’ Kara grumbles. Skye rolls her eyes, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

‘Like you can talk,’ she mutters under her breath.

‘I can still hear you.’

‘Uh, yeah, I know?’

And then the grate over the vent in the ceiling clatters open and drops to the floor, followed almost immediately by May herself. Unlike the grate, however, May lands soundlessly, graceful in that way she has that always makes Skye stare in awe. She brushes herself off before casting a glance around the room in evaluation.

When her gaze falls upon Bakshi’s motionless body, her eyebrows shoot upwards and she looks to Jemma in question.

‘He went down fast,’ she notes.

‘New formula,’ Jemma explains, beaming in pride. ‘I’ve not quite perfected dosage yet, however, so I  _might_ have overdone it somewhat. Nevertheless, it should be quite safe, if a little hangover-inducing.’

‘Wait, new?’ Skye asks, mentally replaying the previous exchange. ‘It still leaves the –?’

‘ – the aftertaste?’ Jemma finishes, her eyes alight with the excitement that comes from discussing her concoctions. ‘Don’t worry, Skye. Bakshi, too, will be waking up with the taste of strawberries and cream in his mouth, and the knowledge that he’s $2.3 million poorer. And also that he’s a creep, although I hardly think that’d be news to him at this point.’

Skye shakes her head, impressed. ‘You’re diabolical, you know that?’

She laughs, all melodic and delighted, before strolling over to the dresser to touch up her lipstick.

‘I’m serious! That’s some next level femme fatale shit, right there.’

‘Well,’ she says, matter-of-fact. She smacks her lips together. ‘I’ve got to leave a calling card, now, haven’t I?’

‘Damn, Jems,’ Bobbi laughs. ‘You’re  _brutal_.’

She shrugs lightly, the motion looking totally out of place on her.

‘He’s not a very good man.’

No one can argue with that.

‘So you’ve got the keycard?’ May asks. Jemma holds it up between two fingers, quirking an elegant brow, and May smirks.

‘Good, hold onto that. Kara?’

‘T minus four minutes,’ Kara replies. ‘Give or take a few seconds, probably.’

‘Things are still looking good out here,’ Bobbi pitches in. ‘You ladies going to need my back-up in there?’

‘That’s a negative, but…’

Skye misses the rest of what May says to that, since she’s momentarily distracted by Jemma tucking the keycard into her bra.

(Look, no one’s immune, alright? It’s not her fault.)

Blinking, she shakes her head to jolt herself back into focus.

‘Ready?’ May asks, walking over to the door as she clicks a full mag into her pistol. Skye has no fucking clue where she pulled the pistol from, not in the skintight bodysuit she wears, but she’s learned that you don’t really question May’s methods.

Not when they work this well.

‘I’m ready to make Hunter cry, if that’s what you mean,’ Bobbi answers, glee in her voice.

‘Oh, yes, so am I!’ Jemma pipes up. At May’s face, she shrinks back a little. ‘And also the extremely valuable schematics, yes. Those too.’

May rolls her eyes. ‘Skye.’

She scans the feeds on her phone. ‘All clear. You’re good to go.’

May nods, and then, with the pleased smirk she reserves for the very height of every sting, she noiselessly opens the door and stalks away in the direction of the fire escape. Jemma leans forward, readjusting the neckline of her dress, before straightening up, fluffing her hair a couple of times for good measure.

‘Here,’ she says to Skye, tossing her the lipstick. Skye catches it one-handed. ‘It’s a really good shade for you.’

‘Thanks, babe. Go get ‘em.’

Quickly glancing both ways down the hallway, Jemma blows a kiss over her shoulder at Skye before sauntering off towards the elevators.

‘Let’s lead these merry fuckers a dance,’ Bobbi mutters, kicking the Harley into life. Across the line, Kara releases a dark noise of contentment at the engine’s purrs.

Skye moves for the door, but at the very last second, an idea strikes her and stops her in her tracks.

Oh.

Oh, that’s _good._

Quickly grabbing her phone, she scrolls through her contacts, deliberating. Her thumb hovers over Hunter’s name – tempting, oh so tempting – but then decides against it, scrolling down to the W’s instead.

Ward.

This’ll give him something to think about.

She hits dial; Ward picks up after a single ring.

‘Skye. It’s been a while,’ he says, and he sounds self-assured but it’s clear from his tone that he wasn’t expecting this call. Skye feels the corners of her mouth tug upwards into a predatory smile.

‘Hiya Ward. Long time no speak.’

She wanders over towards the dresser to apply Jemma’s lipstick, deliberately allowing the silence across the phone line to drag into the uncomfortable.

Ward clears his throat. ‘What’s – ’

‘Actually, look,’ she cuts him off, smiling at her reflection. Then, using the lipstick, she begins to write on the glass. ‘I’ll be honest with you here – I was mostly just checking to see if you have the same number. I’m working, see.’

‘Wh- did you say working? What are you- Skye?’

She steps back, admiring her handiwork:

_Sunil! Lovely time. Call me?_

And then underneath the message, written in large digits that are impossible to miss, is Ward’s mobile number. She puts the cap back on the lipstick with a satisfying click.

_Have fun with that one, buddy._

‘Sorry Ward, gotta run!’ she singsongs. Leaning forward, she kisses the mirror to leave a distinct lip mark. Jemma will appreciate the touch, she thinks.

_‘Skye.’_

‘Too-da-loo!’

Hanging up, she glances over at Bakshi.

 _Now_ she’s ready to leave.

‘I’m in,’ Kara announces at that exact moment.

‘Wow. Great timing. Everyone ready?’

As the rest of her team answers in the affirmative, Skye takes one last look around the hotel room. A wicked smirk crosses her lips.

_I fucking **love**  my job._

Without another backward glance, she hits the button to scramble the building’s electronics.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'Glory and Gore' by Lorde, and as always, you can find me at imperfectlychaotic.tumblr.com, where I sometimes fill weird prompts like this one. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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